Doubt
by RepublicGurl
Summary: Features a scene of a young Mirialan Padawan's internal conflict on the planet Tython. Story is set a few years after ATC. Competition entry for new Star Wars MMO. Canon compliant.


**Author's Note: **This was a little **one-shot **story I entered in the _Star Wars: the Old Republic _**Jedi Consular **competition. It won fifth place, and I figured if I was going to start putting stories on this site, I might as well start with this one. It isn't very long, and was simply supposed to be like a snap-shot within the life of a Consular character. I intend to roleplay this character in the game.

**Story Settings: **This takes place only a few years after the_ Treaty of Coruscant, _and a few years before the start of the game which takes place **10 ATC**; after the treaty. Hope you all enjoy; and another competition is currently in the works on the official game website- I am going to enter it again. :)

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><p><strong>Doubt<strong>

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><p><em>"You don't know what you're talking about. You weren't even <em>there<em>." _

With a wince, Zira recalls her earlier words. Such harsh words, spat out in a moment of anger and resentment. The Mirialan teen has always tried to practice remaining calm and collected; wanting to mimic the Jedi Masters she's grown up around her entire life.

And yet, for all of her training and efforts, sometimes the Padawan finds herself giving in to her quick heated temper. Usually at the least opportune times.

As the Mirialan sits upon the small stone foundation, staring out over the grounds to the Training fields, she tries to figure out the root of her anger. Her Master, Yuon Par, never tires of reminding Zira that in order to keep an open, unbiased perspective on any situation, one must be able to examine one's emotions.

_"Detachment is a key stone for any Jedi,"_ Zira can hear her Master's gentle voice as if she is right next to her. _"But what one must also practice with the same amount of effort is self-examination. It is well and good to be able to detach from a painful or tempting source; but to know why the need is there in the first place is the sign of a true Master."_

"At the rate I am going, I'll never make it past my Trials, let alone becoming a Master." Zira sighs aloud, looking down into her lap. A light breeze flows through the open grounds, ruffling the hem of Zira's long brown robes, and her long black Padawan braid. Like most other Padawans, the rest of Zira's onyx black hair is cut short, her curly strands running no longer than to her chin.

After a still moment, Zira turns her vibrant orange eyes- such a rarity among her kind -to the small tattoos on the insides of her wrists, drawn into the sensitive, yellow-green skin.

As she observes the tattoos, a small swell of pride and accomplishment blossoms in her chest, momentarily chasing away her sadness. She had rightfully achieved the status to get honorary tattoos when she was chosen as a Padawan, according to the customs and traditions of her native people.

She can remember that day clearly; when she was just coming from lightsabre combat training, only to be pulled aside by Master Par. The unorthodox Master had always been talk amongst the Initiates and Padawans, all who had varying opinions on the otherwise venerable Master's methods. While Master Par was indeed unorthodox, no one doubted her loyalty to the Order one bit.

A smile finds its way to Zira's face as she remembers the feeling of elation and joy when her Master had formally requested she be her Padawan. It had been such a joyous time, and for the next few days she had walked around the Jedi Temple, in a semi-daze still not quite able to believe she had been promoted to Padawan.

Just as suddenly as the smile appeared on her face, it disappears. That was then, and though only a few years ago, it feels like a lifetime. A lifetime when there had been peace in the galaxy, of when she could more easily tame her emotions.

Back to a time when the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, in all its magnificent glory, had still stood proudly as a beacon of peace for the Republic.

_And look at us now,_Zira thinks with a bit of frustration and helplessness. The Jedi were supposed to be Guardians of peace and justice; they were supposed to help others. And yet… here they were.

On this distant planet, trying to rebuild themselves back into the great Order they once were.

Zira balls her hands into fists, and presses her lips together as she feels the slight sting of tears building in her eyes. She swallows, angry with herself for feeling the acidic emotions boiling inside her.

Her words from earlier come back, and with shame she lowers her head. Her former clan-mate Davin had meant no offense when he callously talked about the attack of the Coruscant Temple. In his ignorance, he spoke with little sensitivity to those, like Zira, who had actually been there when it happened.

Before the Mirialan could stop, she had stood up in the middle of the class and proceeded to get into a heated debate with Davin. Her anger and resentment towards him- _no,_ Zira corrects herself, _not him_. Her resentment towards his _words _had her ready to hurt him physically, because her anger was so strong.

Through the Force, all of her classmates had felt the corroding emotion, and a few had squirmed uncomfortably in their seats. When the teacher, Master For'ra, had excused her from class, Zira quickly retreated outside to the open grounds.

Here, she could usually gather some semblance of order and focus. Order and focus which now only seems to make her more ashamed as she realized the faults of her actions. Actions that were extremely unwarranted and unnecessary.

_I wish my Master was here, _Zira thinks dejectedly. Called away on a classified mission, Master Par had requested she stay behind on Tython. And though the Mirialan knows it is for the best, a part of her- the juvenile part that sometimes whispers to her when she experiences doubt- thinks her Master does not want her along to cause trouble.

_She would know what to do._

Hoping to quiet her wayward thoughts, Zira raises her eyes to stare out at the Grounds. Soon, silence settles completely around her, and the teen remains, silently watching. All too soon, evening approaches, and Zira stands to return to the Temple. As she approaches the doors and tries to calm herself outwardly, the little spark of doubt flickers inside her.

A small spark, but still present nonetheless...

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><p><strong>Yes... so. Heh. Um, there you go? It's really small, but the nxt competition entry (which takes place a few years later) shall be twice as long (or longer).<strong>

**I'm even thinking of making a full-length sequel, because the writing I've been doing for Zira is wonderful. I've gotten feedback from some of my friends who are _Star Wars _fans, and they agree that her character is developing, changing and not static. The complexity I find in her, even as I write her character's interactions and thoughts, truly inspires me. ^^**

**Oh- and a bonus. If I write the sequel, canon-characters established in _The Old Republic _will be featured. I feel safe in doing this because your character- (depending on class) -meets certain canon characters in the game.**


End file.
